


Bone Written Poems

by R_Quarion



Series: Costal Cacophony [2]
Category: Broadchurch, Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alec!Crowley, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aziraphale as 'Mr. A. Z. Fell', Blood and Gore, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Loss, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Other, Pyromania, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Season/series 5, intertextuality, la noire reference, the imperfect human condition and all the complexities that come along with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Quarion/pseuds/R_Quarion
Summary: D. I Alec Hardy, D. S. Ellie Miller and Dr. A. Z. Fell, are a triumvirate of Broadchurch. After staying with his fellow detectives, Dr. Fell has found a home in the small coastal town. After their struggle with the Four Horsemen, the town and its crime seemed to slow. That is until a ghost of Broadchurch’s past returns to haunt them.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller, Aziraphale & Ellie Miller, Aziraphale/Alec!Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Costal Cacophony [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640155
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	Bone Written Poems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Tea At The Ritz Discord](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Tea+At+The+Ritz+Discord).



“I am glad to welcome you all, I have been eagerly awaiting this gathering. It is fantastic to see all of you on this glorious Sunday morning. A hearty warm welcome to all as we come together as one, in prayer and worship. Today, we will speak of redemption. Of rebuilding. Of strength, both individual _and_ united.”

Paul could not help but smile. That smile had been stuck to his face for weeks nearly. Broadchurch was different than what he had feared it would return to. Hope had paid the town a visit. The passing of Ebby had been a hardship, the death of someone young always was. There was always a part of Broadchurch that would ache for those it had lost. Young or otherwise. It had been hope that seemed to dance in the streetlights that made all the difference.

Hope that had bloomed from a guilty plea.

The court case had been unlike Joe Miller’s. Erik, or Pestilence as he declared to be known, had admitted his crimes. In fact he screamed them upon the court room. Loud and angry but honest. Life was sentenced and Alec had hoped that with every waking minute, Pestilence would be haunted. That his crimes would be his own undoing.

“Isaiah 9:10 says it all… that the bricks may have fallen down, but we will build with cut stones; the sycamores are cut down, but we use cedars instead… Broadchurch is stronger then its falls, yet, Broadchurch could be considered to be those walls… let me tell you all, that it’s not. _We_ are Broadchurch. Everyone in this room, everyone in their homes, everyone working, each and every person is what makes this town. Together, we are stronger than the falling of bricks… we are the people, _we are the cut stones, we are the cedars_!”

Cheers had not echoed the church in years until that morning. It had been grim and dreary up until that exact moment. Paul felt his veins catch fire with energy. An enthusiasm that he had not felt before washed over him. Faces were smiling back and that, without a doubt, reignited his faith in the town.

“Love thy neighbour! Because we are only as weak as we perceive others to be. _So don’t_. Corunthians 1:10! I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought.”

From the front row, Fell was beaming. His signature light beige trenchcoat and velvet caramel waistcoat contrasted heavily against the all black that Alec was wearing. It had been a surprise to see him enter the church, slowly trailing behind Fell and eyeing every corner as if the shadows hid monsters. Alec’s expression was still one of doubt but he clapped with everyone else, albeit slower and with less certainty. But Paul was fixated on the intense admiration in Fell’s eyes. It made Paul feel worthy of the podium.

“We. Are. The. Cut. Stones!”

~ ~ ~

"Okay. I understand what you're saying. _But_. I raise you. Why isn't eleven pronounced as 'onety one'?" For the first time in the past hour, the whole group quieted. It was as if they had put on invisible thinking caps and been absorbed by their own inner monologues. 

Adam always had a way of making the best games but also the hardest riddles. There was no reason that Pepper could consider that would explain such a thing. Neither did Brian or Wensleydale. Leona shook her head with a smug grin. 

"Adam that's dumb." She told him straight forward. "That's like asking… where is Old Zealand?"  
"That's a good question!" Brian exclaimed, "and Old Mexico?! Where did he get off to?"  
"Why _he_ ?" Pepper asked as she took a moment to deathly stare down a leaf that had fallen into her hair. "Only makes it fair if _some_ places are men, or women, or anything in between?"

"Pepper makes a fine point!" Adam declared. "But she doesn't make any point about the number eleven?"  
"It's a prime number and you're a prime moron." Pepper snapped back, sticking her tongue out at Adam for a second.  
"Dog, did you see what Pepper just did?!" Adam exclaimed to Dog who huffed a bark of agreement. "Unbelievable!" 

The Eden had been opened back up once the case had closed. Pestilence behind bars and Eden had been cleared for possible demolition. It was to remain upright after some pleas to the council and possibly, maybe, a few prayers. It may have been a crime scene but it had still been a home to Ebby. Fell had helped the Them with their plea. The council was swayed by the notion of not letting the bad win. Things had been going well and that was enough for The Them. 

~ ~ ~

“Nice speech.” Alec was lackluster and carried a scowl but he did mean what he said. Shaking Paul’s hand made up for it.  
“Thank you Hardy.” Paul smiled, nodding as he shook back, “I will admit… I did not expect to see you here, well, _ever_ .”  
“Ah, well…” He looked elsewhere. To the people lingering by the church doors, to those who were leaving, to the headstones in the grass.  
“I presume if---”  
“If it weren’t for Azira? Aye, likely wouldn’t be 'ere laddie.” Alec interrupted, squinting against the sun as he looked back at Paul. The vicar huffed a laugh. Nothing much more could be expected from the D. I. His personality was a hard adjustment but, needless to say, Paul had adjusted.

“He is of little faith.” Fell scoffed at him, “I’m doing my best to---”  
“Bore me tae death? Daein' a pure dead brilliant jab o' it, if I say sae.”  
Fell shot him a glare that made Alec take half a step back and raise his hands in satirical surrender.  
“I’m doing my best to open his eyes. Even if he doesn’t believe it, at least he tried.”  
“Mhm,” Paul hummed as he looked from Alec’s disgruntled expression to Fell’s smile, “well our God is a welcoming God.”

“I’m nae a God or an angel guy, I’m more o' a demon I'd say. Does Satan have a different say in tha matter?” Alec kicked at the leaves that had fallen to the ground, “nae offence Paul.”  
“None taken, if anyone is an angel it’s Fell.” Paul’s lip upturned into a smug smirk, “besides, you wouldn’t have to tell me twice that you’d be a demon. Seems about right...” That won a chuckle from Fell,  
“Aye what’s so funny, Angel?” Alec nudged Fell with his elbow,  
“Oh just the _bickering_.” Fell nearly snorted in laughter, “so childish… admit it Alec, Paul’s speech was moving.”

Crossing his arms, Alec looked back and forth between the two of them at least three times over before he admitted defeat. With a brow still furrowed, he admitted.  
“Aight, aye, it was movin’. Ye did well, this town needs ye more then ya know.”  
Stunned silence.  
“Sorry was that… a _real_ compliment?” Paul’s eyes widened in surprise.  
“Don’t get used to it. C’mon Angel, we got places to be.” Fell tilted his head at the term of endearment. Even if Alec used it in mockery of Paul.

“Before you leave.” Paul blurted out quickly, catching Fell’s arm before they could turn away. “Might I ask a favour?”  
“Anything.” Fell’s smile never failed to brighten.  
“Nae not anything.” Alec butted in, “he could ask ya to… I dinnae…”  
“No please, go on, I’m interested in what you have to say…” Paul’s lip was upturned into a grin he was trying to repress.  
“He could ask ya to… start Armageddon…?” 

Paul and Fell scoffed in unison, dragging a laugh from Alec's lips. 

"We've already dealt with the horsemen. No Armageddon in sight, dear." Fell reminded him. "But what were you asking me?"  
"Uh." Paul swallowed before the stutter, "w-well I'd be honoured if maybe you could help with my next service?”  
"Oh that would be splendid. The honour would be all mine!"  
Alec hated the way his heart melted at how happy Paul looked. It was only more evidence that Fell could bring joy with little trying.

~ ~ ~

"Do you ever read the paper and just… _hate_ it?” 

Newton looked over his shoulder to Anathema who was sitting at their kitchen table. Adjusting her glasses slightly and flicking her highlighter around in a circle between her fingers.  
“Not particularly…?” She raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t catch his gaze, “I mean, hate is a strong word. I hate when computers don’t work… I hate having nothing to do around the house… and I _definitely_ hate when people don’t name their cars.”  
“You are the _only_ person to name your car.” Anathema glared, turning the page of the paper. “And Dick Turbin is a poor excuse for a name.”  
“Okay well A: ouch, and Two: I’m not the only one.” He turned the television down. Despite his best efforts to be watching something called Gracepoint. He couldn’t help but believe a UK version would be better.  
“Oh really?” Anathema flatly asked in a tone that begged to not have a follow up.  
“Yeah. Had a friend in highschool, lad named Lee, who named his car _and_ its trailer.”  
“Mhm, and it was called?”  
“... uhhhh not really relevant--”  
“It was called?”  
“... Biggus Dickus…”  
Anathema looked out of the window of the apartment as if it would provide any context. 

“Why are you picking fights with the paper?” Newton asked,  
“It’s picking fights with me…”“

Oh? Paper cuts? They’re the worst, I---” 

“No, not _paper cuts_ ,” she scoffed at the concept, “see these here… some journalist here has had the nerve to write about prophecies.”

Newton’s blank stare was enough for Anathema to go on.  
“As a descendant of Agnes Nutter, I can say that _all of this drivel_ is insulting.”  
“Who wrote it? You could go talk some sense into them?” The innocence of the tone didn’t match how Anathema took the phrase to be.  
“I’m not going to fight anyo--”  
Newton spat out his coffee onto the newspaper in question. Giving Anathema a worried smile of regret as it dripped from his chin onto his jeans.  
“I wasn’t going to say fight. Just… you have Agnes’ book, right? Go down and… I dont know, educate them. No harm.”  
“Oh when it comes to prophecies, my love, most tend to do the opposite…”  
Newton raised his eyebrows into the air almost comically. “But you make a fine point… I’ll visit this Olly Stevens sometime in the week…”  
Anathema turned to a page and, as if it called to her, she read a phrase.

 _prepareth to square!_ _  
__that gent shall fig thee m're than thee shall expecteth,,_ _  
__that gent is not the real threat h're,_ _  
__the shadows hideth a dang'r,_ _  
__the soil buries all._

~ ~ ~

“Hey, James…”  
“Got it, yes!” Kel nodded at the crossword he was working on. Ten across, _always without an end_ ; eternal. Crosswords were not his favourite puzzles to work on but on quiet Monday evenings, there was often little much else to do while waiting for call outs.  
"James, aye, Mr, Sir Kelso."  
"Myeah?" He mumbled, looking at the next challenge the ink would face him with.  
"James, I swear… there's someone outside…" 

Kel huffed a laugh before raising his head from the puzzle to look at Damery,  
"Yeah, the whole wide world---" Kel was stopped by the fear in his colleague's eyes. He followed the gaze to the glass doors that the police precinct was guarded by. Outside in the security light staggered a shadow. Huge and looming. It's source was hidden by overgrowth of trees which the council had forgotten to trim, much to Kel’s dismay. For both aesthetic reasons and, in this moment, safety reasons. 

Kel stood from where he sat with hasty concern, gesturing that Damery get ready for confrontation by placing his own hand on his firearm. Things beyond their building were distorted by the glass, the shadow eventually forming a figure. Limping, silhouetted, and beyond unidentifiable.  
“We had no meetings?” Amery asked in a poor attempt to calm his nerves.  
“Not at midnight, no…” Kel had to hold back a snide tone.

It was with a sudden movement that the figure hit the window. Face obstructed by the dark of the night but trails of blood following where fingertips had lay to rest. It was much too quiet while Kel switched his safety off and Damery took a few steps closer. The wail that followed was nightmare fuel.

~ ~ ~

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this story will include dark and gruesome themes, much like the show Broadchurch. The themes do not reflect my personal views in any way, shape or form.


End file.
